


responsibility

by Twice_before_Friday



Series: Altered & Extended - season 1 [19]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Arrest, Episode: s01e19 The Professionals, Gen, Guilt, Hallucinations, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Stand Alone, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28424445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twice_before_Friday/pseuds/Twice_before_Friday
Summary: A part of him wants to ask if Gil honestly thinks he murdered Eddie, but he's terrified of the answer. For nearly two decades, whenever Malcolm's worst fears have broken free, Gil's been there to assure him that he's nothing like his father, that there's no way he couldeverbecome a monster like Martin. But now here he is, breaking down Malcolm's door to arrest him for murder, treating him like he would any other criminal.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Series: Altered & Extended - season 1 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557952
Comments: 14
Kudos: 53





	responsibility

**Author's Note:**

> All of the stories in this series are stand alone. You don't need to have read the others to read this one.
> 
> This takes place right at the end of episode 19, when the SWAT team kicks down Malcolm's door and the team places him under arrest.

_Gil, you...you know I didn't do this._

_Malcolm Bright, you're under arrest for murder._

\---

It's like he forgets how to breathe.

He's had nightmares like this. Visions of Gil coming to his house and arresting him, just like he did Martin. 

In his dreams, the cold snap of metal around his wrists is tighter than it is now, biting into his flesh, slicing through skin and muscle and into his bones as Gil drags him out into the street, parading him in front of the reporters that camp out in front of his home.

In his dreams, Gil tells the world that Malcolm Bright is just like his father, and that he'll be locked away forever, like he's always deserved.

Here, now, Gil looks anything but angry. He's missing the vengeful cast that Malcolm's nightmares always taunt him with. Right now, Gil looks heartbroken.

Somehow, it's almost worse.

"Gil. Please," Malcolm begs, _pleads_ for him to say that he knows, that's it's all some sort of misunderstanding. "I didn't do this, you have to believe me."

Dani and JT stand on either side of him, a hand on each arm — one cold and one warm, even through the luxury fabrics of his shirt and jacket — holding him in place as though they're worried he might run.

As though they think he has a _reason_ to run.

Neither of the detectives seems keen on making eye contact, and he can't deny, even to himself, that it hurts.

So he turns his attention back to Gil, hoping for some sort of signal to let him know that Gil doesn't truly believe he did this.

He finds nothing.

Gil stands with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, his gaze darting between Malcolm and the floor in a way that Malcolm can't quite pinpoint as guilt or disappointment, but it makes his stomach churn either way.

It doesn't help that a vision of Eve, angelic in a flowing white dress, is standing just behind Gil, piercing him with a gaze so full of compassion that it makes him ache. If it didn't sting so badly, it would almost be funny; she's the only person in the room that's willing to look at him right now and she isn't even real.

A part of him wants to ask if Gil honestly thinks he murdered Eddie, but he's terrified of the answer. For nearly two decades, whenever Malcolm's worst fears have broken free, Gil's been there to assure him that he's nothing like his father, that there's no way he could _ever_ become a monster like Martin. But now here he is, breaking down Malcolm's door to arrest him for murder, treating him like he would any other criminal.

As if reading his thoughts, the concern in Eve's eyes subtly shifts from compassion to pity, and suddenly _he's_ the one that can't hold eye contact, can't handle the shame that washes through him as her gaze pierces into his soul. 

He didn't kill Eddie. But he wanted to. 

And he couldn't save Eve. 

Just maybe, he thinks as the guilt swells inside of him, crushing his lungs and squeezing his heart as it threatens to drown him, it's merely an act of karma that he's losing his family now.

Maybe it's exactly what he deserves.

Despite his pain, Eve's gaze remains unwavering, pinning him like a butterfly to a spreading board, leaving him exposed and vulnerable in a way that he's not equipped to handle at the moment. Everything is just too raw right now, scraping and grating against his skin, against his soul.

"Please, stop," he whispers, squeezing his eyes closed tight to escape the intensity of her stare.

Lost in his mind, in the swirl of thoughts and scenarios that are overloading his already overtaxed psyche, the warm hand that lands on the back of his neck startles him so badly that he nearly shakes off the loose grasp that JT and Dani have on his arms.

"I'm sorry, kid," Gil says. 

Malcolm can tell he's sincere, but he's unsure what exactly Gil is apologizing for and his heart is racing too hard for him to formulate a coherent thought, let alone voice it, and suddenly JT is leading him towards the door and it's too late to ask anyhow.

The march downstairs is interminable; every step leaves him shaking just a little bit harder until JT's grip turns from leading to supporting, keeping him from missing a step as they make their way down to street level.

"It's gonna be okay, man," JT says, so quietly that Malcolm's not sure if he heard it or imagined it.

The SWAT team follows after them, Gil and Dani hot on their heels, the full force of the NYPD spilling onto the street and drawing the attention of passersby on the street who either stop to gawk and take pictures, or jaywalk to the other side of the road to avoid the sudden police presence.

It's too much like before.

When he was a boy, after the police pulled Martin to his feet and dragged him away from Malcolm, taking away the man that had been his hero for so very long, he rushed upstairs as fast as his little legs would carry him, running to the window to watch as they lowered Martin into a police cruiser amidst the flashing bulbs and shouting tones of the hoards of reporters gathered outside.

And while JT settles him into the back of an SUV rather than a cruiser, Martin's voice is still echoing in his head now, just like it did back then — just like it always does — whispering, taunting, threatening, _we're the same_. 

Only this time, Malcolm starts to believe that maybe his father was right all along.

He watches Gil, JT, and Dani as they huddle together on the sidewalk, absorbed in what appears to be a heated conversation that no one is winning. All three of them keep their voices low enough that the sound doesn't penetrate the tinted glass that separates him from his team, from the family he thought he'd been building.

It only takes a moment — time he spends watching the anger and resignation as it works its way through the team — before he realizes he's not alone in the car.

He doesn't even need to look to know she's there, ethereal and ever-present, a constant reminder of his shortcomings and failures.

And there's so, so many failures.

"You need to go," he whispers, leaning his head against the cool glass. "I need you to go."

He still has his eyes closed when the driver and passenger doors swing open, the buzz of the outside world filtering in as the car shifts beneath the weight of Gil and Dani as they settle into their seats. He opens his eyes when Gil starts the car, the engine roaring to life so loud and so sudden that it's physically painful in his hyper-aware state. He ignores it though, like he ignores everything else that's aching, pushing himself away from the window and straightening up as best he can. 

"Gil. Dani," Malcolm tries to explain again, leaning forward in his seat, completely disregarding the way his shoulders pull at the movement as the handcuffs dig into his wrists and wrench his shoulders in their sockets. "I didn't kill Eddie. This has Endicott written all over it. Tell me you see that."

"Kid," Gil says, scrubbing a hand roughly over his goatee. "It doesn't matter what we think. The evidence is stacking up against you and we can't ignore it."

It doesn't go unnoticed that Gil didn't specifically say he believes him. 

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, Eve raises an eyebrow at him and he can practically hear the trill of her, "Well, what did you expect?" in the silence of the car. 

She's not wrong.

Not only is Endicott a master manipulator, an expert at silencing those who might dare oppose him without leaving a hint of his involvement behind, but Malcolm himself is the perfect patsy. The black cloud of suspicion that's been following him since the moment he made that call to the police over two decades ago ensures that no one has any difficulties believing that Malcolm, son of The Surgeon, could be a killer himself.

He closes his eyes once again. "Please," he begs her to stop. To leave him alone. "I can't do this anymore."

"Kid," Gil says firmly, glancing back at him through the rear view mirror, "Maybe you should take advantage of your right to remain silent."

Malcolm opens his eyes at Gil's weighted suggestion, but instead of looking up to find his mentor's warm eyes staring back at him in the mirror, it's Eve that captures his attention. She looks sad. 

Heartbroken.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry."

"Bright," Gil warns as he waits for a break in the traffic to make a left turn towards the precinct.

Malcolm barely even hears the warning, he's so focused on Eve. Eve, who was young and brilliant and had so much potential. And Nicholas Endicott snuffed her out without a second thought, just because she started digging into her sister's life.

And Malcolm _knows_ that he himself is responsible, at least in part, for putting her on Endicott's radar. Sure, she'd been searching on her own for years, but she'd never been a threat to Nicholas until Malcolm took her to see Martin.

He can't help but think that if Eve had never met him, if they'd never started dating, never started _trusting_ one another, she might still be alive.

"I never meant for this to happen." He tells himself that the break in his voice is merely a result of the way he's twisting awkwardly in his seat, trying to face her straight on, to explain, to apologize. "Please. Forgive me."

"Bright," It's not quite a shout, but it's near enough that Malcolm's attention snaps from the spectre of Eve to Gil's exasperated face as Gil twists back to face him from the driver's seat. "Stop talking. Don't say another word until you talk to a lawyer."

His harsh tone is enough to shake Malcolm from the overwhelming regret and remorse that have been suffocating him. Enough to disperse the ghost of Eve into the ether where she belongs. 

But Malcolm would swear he sees her features soften and form into something that looks an awful lot like forgiveness before she goes.

And maybe that's all he needs. 

At least, for now.

Gil gives a brusque nod at Malcolm's sudden silence and turns back to the road, apparently assured that his warning's been heeded. But it's not the call for a lawyer that's stilled Malcolm's tongue. It's the realization that, despite what he's about to endure, it's going to be up to him to put an end to Endicott's reign of terror.

He knows he needs to keep his wits about him, especially now, while his own future is so precariously balanced on a knife-edge. And if he wants to bring Endicott down, then he can't let something so insignificant as a first degree murder charge hold him back. 

He needs to be smart about this.

He needs to ensure he doesn't give the DA any other ammunition to use against him, which means he needs to take Gil's advice and shut his mouth. He knows his mother will have a fleet of lawyers ready to arrange his freedom in no time at all, at least until formal charges are filed.

It's a small window of time, so he'll need to work fast. 

So he starts to plan.

More than likely, he'll be released under his mother's recognizance, which means he'll have to stay at the Milton manor. He'll need to swing by his loft for clothes and toiletries first, and he makes a mental note to sneak his gun and a few small tools to disable the alarm sensor on the ankle monitor they're bound to make him wear. He's so lost in his preparations that his head jerks painfully to the side when his door is suddenly tugged open.

He hadn't even realized they'd stopped.

Outside, Dani stands a few feet back with her arms crossed over her chest. She's chewing on her lip, a sure sign she's uncomfortable with the situation, but there's a determination etched in every feature that says that she's going to do this all by the book.

He understands it. He does. He just wishes she believed he was innocent while she goes through the motions.

Gil stands just outside the car, one arm resting on the top of the open door as he leans down and looks Malcolm in the eye and speaks with such conviction that Malcolm can't help but truly listen. "We're gonna find who did this, kid. We just need some time, okay? You need to lie low and let us work."

The knot that's been twisting and tightening in Malcolm's stomach since the SWAT team kicked down his door and invaded his home finally starts to release.

Gil is still on his side.

Gil believes him.

There's a hot prickle at the back of his eyes that he pretends he can't feel, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat as Gil helps him out of the back seat. The warm hand on his bicep, meant to steady him as he shuffles his way onto the sidewalk, provides a further balm to the ache inside of him. 

He knows that touch better than anything. That touch is home and love and acceptance.

And Malcolm realizes that, despite Endicott's best efforts, he hasn't lost his family at all.

He intends to keep it that way.

Gil may have asked him to keep his head down and let them work, but Malcolm has no intention of letting his team anywhere near Nicholas Endicott. This is his battle and his responsibility. 

He refuses to let Endicott hurt anyone else.

One way or another, he decides, this ends tonight.


End file.
